


Help Line

by LeftNotRight



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Adults Trying But Failing, Children, Don’t copy to another site, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotions, Help, Mental Health Issues, Sawada Iemitsu's A+ Parenting, Sawada Nana's A+ Parenting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2020-05-30 15:44:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19406380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeftNotRight/pseuds/LeftNotRight
Summary: She woke up that morning in Australia and put on her nicest outfit. One half-seen man and a truck later, she's stranded in a town an ocean away with all lines cut. But Smiths are sturdy folks and she’s arguably an adult. She'll figure this out (probably), and if not, she can just take on the problems of others lost at sea. One of her better coping mechanisms, turns out.





	1. Chapter 1

**Help Line**

**: : :**

**Chapter 1**

* * *

_'Wear heels,'_ they had said.

_'Dress pretty,'_ they had said.

_'You'll need to look professional,'_ they had said.

I groaned and leant against a power pole to allow my left foot some reprieve, lifting it up off the path and shaking it out. My black-and-white striped dress shirt had obvious patches of sweat under each armpit from the hours of walking I had been doing, the confusion only increasing in my mind as I squinted at sign after sign through my glasses.

My phone had long refused to direct me where I needed to go, the city screwing up the signal on the maps like some sort of Bermuda Triangle bull-honkey. I had passed this statue at least twice, that I knew, but where I was in relevance to the corporate building - indistinguishable to its tens of identical block-mates - was completely lost to me.

"My poor _feet_ ," I whined childishly, getting a weird look from a man who shuffled past.

Between the blurred faces of the people who walked in masses, the sharp contrast of black on white drew my eyes and I looked on in confusion as a man stood across the crowded square. He was wearing a bizarre mask and top hat; the overall get up screaming Alice In Wonderland and making me tilt my head to achieve a better view of the layered patterns of checkers and stripes. The surrounding people didn't seem perturbed by his peculiar presence, nor did they have trouble walking around him.

In my hand, my phone buzzed with a notification, the calendar app overlapping the sprawling and nonsensical map to display 'Interview: 5 minutes' and the shriek of my pterodactyl ancestors ripped from my throat. Forgetting the man, I pushed off the power pole and ran awkwardly on the uneven path, my heels clapping under the sounds of morning city traffic.

"Quick, quick, quick," I whispered harshly and dashed across the road as I heard the trill of the pedestrian crossing.

It was only when I was halfway, did I notice that the other people hadn't stepped with me, and I blinked at those who waited on the other side, seeing the same chequered mask peering out from between the mass. Then the blaring horn of a truck roared through the narrow corridors of buildings and I felt my heart drop mid-step.

The collision was...underwhelming, and I rolled at the impact, my brain reeling as I lay sprawled on the ground, staring up at the clear sky for one, two seconds.

That...That did not feel like being hit by a truck. But then again, what did I know about being hit by a truck?

"Oh my God!"

"Shit, where did she come from!?"

I sat up quickly as the sounds of doors opening reached me, apologies spilling from my throat, unchecked as the frazzlement. But then I choked, a small, local produce truck sitting idle at my nose, rather than the huge fuel tanker that had been charging before.

"Hey, lady, are you okay?" the young man who was behind the wheel asked, coming to kneel beside me on the road.

"Huh? Uh, yeah, I'm fine," I nodded dumbly, cogs in my brain slowly turning and crunching the numbers. "Sorry, I got in your way I…I didn't see you."

"We didn't see you either! Are you sure you're okay? Can you stand?"

I blinked and got to my feet, legs feeling weak and exhausted like I had just run a hundred suicides. My bag was strewn on the ground and the man quickly shoved everything back in and gave it to me, allowing me to dust it of gravel, despite there being no signs of such material anywhere around here.

"So like, you aren't going to take this further, are you? It's only my first week and-"

"No, no," I assured quickly, seeing the poor man panic. "It was mostly my fault - I think - and it's not like I'm hurt or anything."

The young man continued to apologise as I put my bag back on, checking the contents for any breakage and giving a sigh of relief when I saw my laptop and water bottle still intact. I winced as my knee throbbed, probably skinned from the fall, and looked past the man, a frown coming to my face as I saw no high-rise buildings of glass and metal. Instead, I was surrounded by low walls and little local stores.

"Where am I?" I asked the man, who paused and stared, not understanding. "I mean, I need to get somewhere and I'm lost. So like, where am I?" I tried again, trying to not look insane and unhinged despite how my heart was still thumping like a hummingbird's. Something was definitely wrong.

"Ah, you're just a bit from the main street in Namimori Centre. If you turn right you'll find the shopping centre…You sure you're okay? I can take you to the hospital?"

"Yeah," I nodded. "I'll be fine. Just need to get my bearings…Have a good day!"

I turned on my heel and quickly walked where he had directed me, hearing him start his engine again and drive off. I thinned my lips as less and less looked familiar to me, and I turned to my phone for aid but found it out of the range of the provider.

"Shit," I cursed, and began walking again, bagging the device to hold on to the battery life. "Maybe a payphone?"

I scanned the area and hummed when I noticed a stand with such a device, jogging toward it with a hopeful clop of my heels. Pulling my wallet from my bag, I put the phone to my ear and waited for the toll instruction, before pausing as the automated voice spoke.

_"Please deposit 100 yen."_

"Yen?" I repeated, confusion rioting in my mind. "Like the Japanese yen?"

I looked at the pay chart and blinked as the characters showed to be those of Asian script primarily, with an underlying English, probably for tourists. Pivoting, I turned to the shops around me, reading and comprehending the kanji and other scripts which were scrawled around on storefronts and advertisements.

"I can read?!"

A woman and her child paused at my gasp before they shuffled along, quickly trying to get out of my range. I clicked my jaw shut and proceeded to panic internally as I straightened my dress shirt and rightened my black slacks, once again externally well-kempt while my inner workings fell apart.

I put the phone back on the hook and stumbled over to a bench under the shade of a tree, slowly trying to create a viable scenario in which this event could have happened. Perhaps I was in a part of the city which used Japanese primarily? Like an area of China Town?

I pinched myself with my nails, making a flap of skin come off but the illusion didn't break. No matter the twists or turns of logic, I couldn't find a sensible way to travel from Australia to _Japan_.

A breath cycled through my lips and I let it out, forcing my body to relax and arrange my thoughts. First, I needed to convert some money into yen, and then I can try the payphone again. I'm in a market centre, so I should be able to find something.

My feet hurt by the time I found a place that would let me exchange currencies and I had half the mind to kick off the low heels. Even if they were only two inches, I wasn't used to wearing them for such a long time without sitting. I was sure to have some sort of blister on my ankle and toes, and they might be bleeding by the time I'd be able to take them off.

"I shouldn't have listened to them," I sighed, walking out of the bank, a walletful of yen coins and notes.

I made my way back to the payphone with aching feet and inserted the required coins, quick to plug in my mother's phone number, only just remembering to add the area code beforehand. I pressed it against my ear as it rang, and after five tones, it picked up.

_"Hello?"_

I felt a surge of dread go through me at the unfamiliar voice of the woman on the other end, but took a breath and pushed on.

"Hello, is this Rosanna Smith?" I asked carefully.

_"Oh, no,"_ she denied, _"Sorry honey, you must have a wrong number."_

"Yeah, probably. Sorry, ma'am, have a good day," I breathed and hung up, knowing I didn't make a mistake in my dialling. "The fuck is going on?"

**: : :**

The sun was starting to go down, and I was beyond starting to get stressed.

The sky was starting to become overcast, and the temperature was dropping, hinting at an incoming downpour, though I couldn't tell if it was going to happen today or tomorrow. Either way, it meant I needed to find some sort of shelter before dark.

I checked my phone and winced at the fading sixty percent, quick to turn it off. I didn't have my cables on me, after all. I didn't think I'd need them when I had left the house.

I thinned my lips and played with the cap of my water bottle before tucking it away in my bag and got to my feet, feeling better after the sit-down, though the blisters still stung through the bandaids. There were children and families bustling around now that the main activities of the day had ended, and I had to step carefully as the youths zigzagged irrationally in their excited behaviours.

I walked for a while and let my eyes scan the area, taking in the sights of 'Namimori', a town I had honestly never heard of before. The way I could read the signs despite their lack of English still unsettled me, but I grit my teeth and took it as a blessing as I bought some kind of lunch box from a stall. I ate slowly by a small park, a soft frown on my face as I wrestled with the chopsticks that I had been given, able to use them, but often having to pause and fix my hold as they slipped around.

A group of children bustled into the park as I ate, all wearing the same uniforms of their elementary school. They screamed and clambered over the play equipment, a brightly coloured ball kicked across the field.

I leant against the back of the bench and watched quietly, trying to press the stress down and relax for a moment. By the time, they began to taper off though, I still hadn't quite settled myself, a constant tension sitting in the back of my mind.

Closing my lunchbox, I decided to keep the container in case I needed it in the future and put it in my bag beside my laptop. I looked up when the shouts of children finally fell silent, thinking they had all left, but paused when I found one young boy kicking a ball around on the floor. I made an internal noise of confusion, recognising him as being the one who had conducted the flow of the other children; the centre of attention with a big smile and boisterous laugh.

Now, his smile had completely faded, and he stared down at the bright rubber ball as it rolled back to him.

I frowned and tilted my head, looking around for a parent who should have been with him or was coming to collect him. No one.

A glance to the high standing clock, perched on a black pole, showed me the slow lurching minutes against a backdrop of ominous looking clouds. Four-fifty in the afternoon and an incoming storm, yet this boy stood unaccounted for in an all but abandoned park.

I tapped my nails against the metal armrest absently, wondering if it were wise to approach the youth and urge him to head home like the many others that were here did. I didn't get the chance, however, as whilst I watched him in my deliberation, his face scrunched up suddenly and he furiously rubbed at his eyes with his sleeves.

Oh God, something's wrong. The young child is crying, oh God.

"Um," I called out, biting my tongue when he whipped around as if he hadn't noticed me present. Big brown eyes stared at me from across the park."Are you okay?"

I could almost literally see the gears change in his head, the long look that he had given to a middle distance in a kind of solemn absence boxed away and painted over with a cheery youth. He grinned wide with the same enthusiasm he had shown the other children before whilst playing and gave a sheepish laugh like he had been caught drawing on the walls.

"Yeah! I'm fine!"

I didn't have time to hide how I didn't believe him, my lips pulling thin and my brows furrowing in concern.

He must have seen it, for he upped the ante of his energy and made a show of kicking the ball up into the air and bouncing it around. It continued until he tripped over himself and fell on his backside, rubbing the back of his head with a smile even as I lurched to my feet instinctively at the tumble.

"...Are you sure?" I asked slowly, looking to the clock again. Five o'clock in the afternoon. The clouds were closer.

"Really! I'm fine, nee-san!"

My face scrunched up in confusion as my ears crunched the numbers and translated the term over somehow - God, I needed to address that soon. The expression seemed to make him rethink what he had done; the boy drawing back a bit as I squinted at him.

"Is that a thing here?" I breathed, "Calling people you don't know 'sister', and stuff?"

That made him perk up, and he came trotting up to me from mid-field, dust still sitting on the back of his pants as he held the ball in his hands and stared up at me, intrigued.

"Are you not from here?" he inquired.

"No, I'm," I paused and looked around. "I'm not from here."

"Where're you from then? And yeah! We call older girls nee-san! Do the people where you're from not do that?"

Oh, lots of words at once, okay.

I blinked and sat back down on my bench, levelling myself with his own height which seemed to make the tensions in his shoulders fade the tiniest bit.

"Well, in _one_ of my cultures we do, but the one I mostly grew up in: no," I answered, making his eyes widen further. "In Australia, we don't typically call people who aren't related to us those things unless we _really_ know them."

"Australia!?" he gasped, "What about the other one?"

"Um, Burmese?"

"Oh!"

"You have no idea where that is, do you?"

"Nope!"

I snorted and nodded my head, already very used to people having no idea about my other country. It was only a small one after all, and not many people talk about it.

"It's a country in Asia, just below China," I hummed, "In that country, we call younger girls ' _thamile_ ', and older girls ' _ma_ '."

"Cool!" he exclaimed, "Do you speak the language?"

"I know enough to know when my mum's angry with me," I laughed before fading off when I saw that faraway look again and the despondent dip of his shoulders.

Parental. Something's wrong at home.

I bit my tongue and glanced to the clock, five-fifteen.

"What about you?" I asked, "You a pureblood?"

The boy's eyes seemed to shine at the term 'pureblood', the fantastical connotations and status catering to his imagination. It seemed to pull the boy from his low, and as such, did the job.

"Yep! Born and bred!" he smiled, spinning the ball in his hands restlessly. "Pureblood!"

I glimpsed past him and saw an empty street, no one walking around with the rain coming so close.

"Why are you out so late?" I asked finally, "Shouldn't someone be coming to collect you soon?"

"Um..." he began, looking - understandably - vaguely alarmed. "My dad is a bit busy...but he's coming soon!"

"Does this happen often?" I was being very careful with my tone and words, trying not to give off that creeper vibe which would send any right-minded youth scrambling for the local police station.

"Only...lately," the boy murmured out.

I bit my lip and rubbed my hands together awkwardly before I sighed and folded them in my lap.

"Are you okay?" I asked again, and this time, he didn't try to hide the twitch in his shoulders. "...Do you want to talk about it?"

He winced and looked at me carefully, as if weighing his options and uttered a weak, "But-"

"Look," I breathed, pausing him as I spoke softly. "The likelihood that I will ever see you again is small. Like, _minimal_. I don't know you, you don't know me. Anything you tell me will only go as far as this park bench, I promise."

The young boy looked up at me for a moment from under his lashes before he nodded and stepped forward, hopping up onto the bench as I made room for him and moved my bag. There was a long pause of just the boy fiddling with his ball, the plastic clicking loudly under his fingers and the toes of his shoes scuffing the ground.

"I don't know how to start," he finally admitted, keeping his eyes low.

"Yeah, that can be hard," I agreed, looking up at the sky. "How about you tell me what's causing you to feel bad at the moment."

A moment went past, and I didn't say anymore, allowing the boy to try to cherry pick his words and formulate concepts which he could convey.

"So, um, my mum died last year," I kept the knee-jerk reaction of a sympathetic hiss contained and instead allowed my brows to furrow as I nodded, showing I was listening. "And I don't think my dad took it well. He's been forgetting everything lately. Like, last night, he left the stove on and we only found out 'cause I went to get a drink and smelt gas."

I nodded again as he bounced his knee irritably, probably not noticing the action.

"And, um, he's working a lot too so he and I don't spend a lot of time together. Which is better, I guess, because he's been all grumpy. He's not, like, hitting me or anything! But he'll yell and I don't like it."

He was quick to defend his father, which I took into consideration. The weight of the situation had settled on the back of my neck and my lips tilted downward, not having expected more than perhaps a bully or arguing parents.

Another silence stretched on and I saw the child biting his lip, hands digging into his ball as his head tilted downward.

"Is it just you and your dad at home?" I urged, trying to get him to open again.

"Yeah."

So no one else to help out and take on roles.

"Has your father forgotten to pick you up?" I asked, glancing once more to the clock.

"Probably," he murmured, "Kaa-san was the one who always picked me up after school."

I squeezed my hands together and gave a quiet sound of acknowledgement, piecing together a crumbling family.

"How do you feel about your mother being gone?" I asked slowly, and immediately, I had the gut-wrenching realisation that he had not been asked that question before.

The young boy, no older than 10, stared at me with wide, blank eyes, his mind slow to create a viable response to the question. It was likely he hadn't even had the time, nor the assets to process the loss being so young and his only other family member having their own difficulties.

"I...don't know," he finally choked out, looking so very confused.

"That's okay," I shrugged and he scrunched up his face in bafflement. "Hey, emotions are weird, man. And loss is hard to process for full-grown adults, no way are we going to expect a kid to be able to grasp it first try. You're still just a little bean, after all."

He seemed to think on it for a while, his toes dragging lightly on the dirt and leaving shallow rivets in their wake. The boy thinned his lips and frowned, his breath growing thick for a moment before it shuddered out through his lips.

I bit my tongue and didn't dare to touch the child, not wanting to overstep despite how everything in me sang to give him a hug. My internal debate didn't seem to matter in the end, however, as the youth gave another quivered breath and scooted over to close the gap on the bench seat.

I sighed and put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing firmly. There was an undeniable feeling of vague guilt for starting this in such an open environment, wondering if I should have offered him like a cafe booth or something - but then realised that it might have been a worse direction.

My gaze was pulled to the clock again, and I winced as the sign of five-forty showed on its shadowed face, the quiet words and long pauses leading to the time passing almost unnoticeably. The temperature had dropped while I had listened, and my skin went up on goosebumps as I finally acknowledged it.

"You should go home now," I murmured to the boy finally, making the decision for him at this point. "Is your house close?"

"Yeah," he nodded, rubbing at his eyes for a moment. "It takes, like, fifteen minutes to get there."

I thinned my lips at that, wondering if I should walk with him before I looked to the sky again and winced threatening rain.

"Here," I began, taking my arm off him slowly, noticing how he turned to me quickly at the removal. I pulled my bag over and grabbed my notebook, quick to pen down something, pause and then tear it out and handed the small page to the boy. "This is my number. I don't have any reception right now, but give me a few days and I will. If you want to talk, you can call me. Do you have a phone, little bean?"

"A home phone, yeah," he said, taking the page from me with both his hands, ball balanced on his lap. He looked down at the words I had written and I held the double take that tried to make me jolt, knowing full well I had written down English letters and yet saw Japanese characters sitting on the paper.

I had thought about writing down the Kids Helpline or Headspace, but realised that Japan probably didn't have those, and nor did I know of any Japanese or international alternatives. So I had reluctantly left it barren with only my own, presently unavailable, number.

"Mari Smith?" he read brokenly, obviously trying to find parallels with his own experience and mispronouncing the European name.

"Almost," I hummed, "Mary Smith."

"Mary Smith."

"There we go."

A small smile came to his face then, and he squeezed the paper tight enough to make it crinkle audibly.

"I'm Yamamoto Takeshi," he introduced, and I smiled warmly down at him, watching how he smoothed out the creases he had made in the page.

"It's nice to meet you, Yamamoto-san," I paused, and pushed down the startle of tacking on that '-san'. Stomping it down further into the crooked cardboard box that was my straining disassociation, I reached into my bag and pulled out the little umbrella within, handing it to the boy. "It looks like it's going to rain before you get home, then. Take it, we don't want you to catch a cold on top of everything else. Stress can reduce the immune system."

"But what about you?" Yamamoto asked.

"Oh, I'll be fine," I waved off with a laugh. "I'll be able to find a place easy."

**: : :**

Finding a place wasn't easy. Not on my meagre funds.

Sure, I had enough and at the moment money wasn't a _huge_ issue at the moment, with my pay having come in only yesterday and so I had enough to buy a room. However, I couldn't keep up this lifestyle for any longer than a week, especially if I wanted to eat and get home.

The room I had bought for the night was a small, cheap one. It was only thirty-four dollars per night, and I sighed in relief when I saw it was actually pretty clean, and decently furnished with the basics. I had until 1pm in the next afternoon to get out, so I was in no rush, and the lack of baggage only made it more so.

I dropped my sling bag on the small table and rubbed my shoulder as the tension wore off, quick to kick off my heels and drop down on the bed. It thunked beneath me, a thin mattress covering the frame, but it was enough for me as exhaustion of all facets came flooding me at once. I had barely enough of the mind to shrug off my dress shirt and hang it over the back of a chair before I crawled under the thin, papery sheets and completely blacked out for the night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to TheAngelicPyro for betaing this chapter!

**Help Line**

**: : :**

**Chapter 2**

* * *

I used the tap in the bathroom to refill my water bottle and aired out my clothes by the window while I had showered, the blisters on my feet stinging from the soap which pooled awkwardly around the drain.

My laptop was charging on the table with a cheap dollar store USB cable desperately working to revitalise my phone, and I scrubbed my hair with a too thin towel as I checked its progress; 89%. I sighed and sat down at the little table, logging into my laptop and connected to the hotel internet after several re-checks that I had typed in the garble of letters and numbers correctly.

Opening up the search engine, I scrolled over my bookmarks until I opened Facebook, knowing that if I couldn’t reach anyone via phone, then I could definitely reach them by social media.

It was an hour later, at 10:43am, that I found myself curled up on the hard bed and unable to take in deep enough breaths as frustration and anxiety hooked their claws into my throat. I shuddered and shook my head, eyes squeezed shut as breaths mingled with the ridiculous growls of a tight throat.

Every single application, every single site, every single account. From Facebook to DeviantArt to Gmail. None of my accounts worked; each of them flashing with the same ‘incorrect username or password’ in their vibrant reds that drove me insane.

I heaved once more and scrubbed at my face, drool coming down the corner of my lips from my open-mouthed wheezing, and my nose was clogged and hot.

“C’mon, Mary, c’mon,” I panted, unsure if it was English or Japanese I was speaking in anymore - hell, it could have been  _ Polish  _ for all I knew at this point!

Everything in the room was a garble of English, Japanese, and other trace languages; some I could read or recognise, others I had no clue. Some words I could look at and read with clarity, sure it was the familiar English, then I’d turn away and out of the corner of my eye see the kanji translation and my throat would close until I choked.

Perhaps if I were home, or had someone familiar and grounding, this new ‘skill’ wouldn’t have driven me to such panic. I might have rejoiced with it, actually. But now it was just another added stress to my growing, teetering stack that balanced on my chest.

The sudden violins and throaty grunts of ‘Dragonborn’ rang out in the room and made me pause in confusion, before I gasped and got to my feet. I ran across the room and snatched up my phone, the trumpets just bellowing as I peered at the screen and found an unfamiliar number. I thinned my lips as my hope dropped for a moment before swiping to answer the call.

“Hello?” I asked slowly, peering down at my computer’s screen as I listened.

_ “Uh, hi, Mary-san!” _ Yamamoto’s voice came through, careful and surprised like he hadn’t expected an answer.  _ “It’s Yamamoto Takeshi.” _

“Oh, hello little bean,” I smiled, pulling away from the phone for a moment to cough my throat clear of any residue tearfulness and stomp down my panic. “Did you get home safe last night?”

_ “Yep!" he _ laughed, seeming to find amusement at being called a ‘bean’. _ “Did you find a place to stay?” _

“Indeed, I did. Told you I would.”

_ “That’s good! It rained really bad last night, the neighbours left their clothing out and now they’ve gotta wash them again.” _

“Oh noes,” I giggled, sitting down at the table. “You didn’t leave anything out did you?”

_ “Nope, everything was inside!” _

“Excellent choice,” I hummed sagely, hearing the boy laugh over the other end. There was a pause where he was just breathing into the receiver, then the faint sound of a door slamming and a broken breath. “Yamamoto-san, are you okay? Are you safe right now?”

_ “Yeah, I’m fine it’s just...Tou-san is in a bad mood.” _

I thinned my lips and tapped my nails on the table for a moment, before sitting forward a bit and pulling away for a split second to check the battery life on my phone. It was still charging, good.

“Okay, little bean,” I began, keeping my voice steady. “Can you tell me where you are and who is with you? Like, are you in your room?”

_ “I’m, uh, in my room, and it’s just tou-san and me.” _

“Does your room have a door?”

_ “Yeah.” _

“Can you lock it?”

_ “No...” _

“That’s okay, can you close it?”

_ “Yeah," he _ murmured, stress becoming evident in his voice and it made me antsy in sympathy but I kept myself resolutely grounded.

“Can you go ahead and close it? It might muffle any sound.”

_ “Okay,”  _ Yamamoto agreed before moving and that’s when I heard the rustle of bedsheets from all around, the realisation that Yamamoto was huddled under his blankets hitting me in the gut. " _ The door’s closed, Mary-san.” _

“Good, good. You said your father will not hit you, right? You’re not in any danger?”

_ “No. He wouldn’t hurt me!” _

“Okay,” I hushed, “I was just making sure, I don’t think your father is mean, I’m just worried.”

_ “...I know," he _ conceded gently and there was another rustle of sheets.  _ “Do you have time?” _

“You want me to stay on the line with you, little bean?”

_ “Yes, please.” _

I glanced to the clock and thought about my own plights before I smiled and leaned back in my chair.

“So, tell me, what’s your favourite subject in school? Or rather, which do you dislike the least?”

The young boy spoke at me for a whole two hours in that fast-paced, ranting way that only children can achieve once they shed their protective, skittish shell. It was endearing how he prattled on and on about the games they played in class, and all the other kids’ show and tell.

It was so much nicer than our last conversation on that cold park bench at twilight, and I was happy to hear that, despite everything, this boy was doing his best to live out a relatively normal life.

_ “And we played baseball on Friday and it was so much fun! I hit the ball, and it went ‘voosh!’ over everyone’s head!” _

I chuckled at yet another onomatopoeia and shook my head at his nature, my smile rarely dimming once through the rather one-sided conversation.

“Oh, so you’re a sporty bean.”

_ “I’mma sporty bean!" he _ agreed enthusiastically and I let out a loud laugh.

“Indeed, you are,” I hummed, “How are you feeling now?”

_ “Much better. Thank you, Mary-san.” _

“Absolutely no problem. It’s why I gave you my number, after all.”

_ “Yeah," he _ breathed and I could hear the smile in his voice.  _ “I, uh, need to go have lunch now or tou-san will be worried. Can I call you again?” _

“Anytime,” I assured, staring at the ‘username or password incorrect’ message on my screen, “Any time at all.”

_ “Thank you! Bye-bye!” _

“Bye-bye.”

I ended the call and lowered my fully charged phone onto the table with a soft clatter, dragging the mouse until I could open my calendar and read the list of appointments that I should have had today. It was all blank, not even my psych-ed classes booked into their time slots.

I scrolled the months, years, looking for any sort of indication of my life. The yearly reminders of birthdays and weekly reminders of classes or sports activities all void, and I took a shaky breath as I returned to present day. It was like every shred of evidence that I ever existed had been erased.

I opened my phone and went to call logs, gazing with defeated acceptance as only one number showed. I tapped it and put it under the name ‘Sporty Bean’; the ‘first’ of my contacts.

My devices were fully charged, my clothes were aired, and I was washed. I looked around the room once more, before I got to my feet and began grabbing my stuff and messenger bag.

I’d need to find another room to stay in tonight, and from the looks of the sky, I didn’t have much time before the next storm hit.

**: : :**

I sat at the side of a fountain in the market square, a box of takeaway food at my side which was serving as both lunch and dinner. Patches of warm sunshine littered the place in what seemed to be a sudden break in the gloomy weather, and I was taking the moment to soak it up as I rested my feet.

I hummed and used my teeth to tear the packaging of some two-pack socks from the 100 yen store, spitting the plastic into my palm before easing off my heels. I winced at the angry red skin and I swore someone hissed in sympathy as they walked past.

“Ouch,” I murmured, before rolling up my slacks and pulled on some black socks.

As I shoved my feet back into my heels, I gave one more helpless look through my phone, once again barren of history, as it had been wiped. A stressed sigh seeped out, and I rubbed my nape from under my hair before I got to my feet and adjusted my messenger bag.

I had been circling this shopping district since leaving the hotel room, and though I had found another at relatively the same price only hours later, I was wondering about in vain attempts to understand what on God’s green earth had taken place. My lip was raw from how much I had been chewing on it recently, and I had been making an effort to kill the habit lest I do some serious damage.

Another glance around the district showed me places I had already seen, and I let out a long breath before taking steps in a random direction. The crowds of people became thinner as I walked, and I began to relish the quiet after spending so long in the bustle of that place. 

Then something in my stomach shifted and I felt my shoulders tense, a sudden feeling of discomfort settling on my nape. I grit my teeth as the feeling urged me to glance over my shoulder, but a better knowing part of me kept my eyes forward until I passed a set of windows and managed to glance out of the corner of my eye.

A man was walking maybe ten paces behind. He wasn’t very strange or clearly standing out; just a normal salaryman. But the feeling that had draped itself across my shoulders still remained, and it burnt whenever I tried to rationalise, as if warning me not to blow this off.

Instead, I decided to test it. 

I took a sudden left into another lane, as if suddenly noticing the street signs, and snatched a view of the man following me still. I tested it again and again, moving left and right in nonsensical patterns to try to debunk my anxiety. 

But instead of settling, it ramped up until I felt an insatiable urge to  _ run _ . 

My teeth pulsed with pain at how tight I was gritting them, even as I stretched my neck high to try and loosen the tension in my shoulders. 

I turned another corner, sharper than I did the last. And then I cursed internally as I was met with a little boy, the feeling of being followed growing.

The youth looked out of breath like he had been running, the furrow in his brow looking out of place on such a small face with wide, brown eyes. He peered up at me with a strange mixture of confusion, worry, and hesitation before he inched toward me, his arms drawn to himself as defence, and whispered, “Are you okay?”

I stared down at him as the footsteps came closer and then I realised, like a sudden epiphany, that I couldn’t leave him here.

Just as I thought that, a tiny hand slid into mine and made me look down to see him waiting patiently.

“Are you okay?" he asked again.

A footfall came, and I heard it with too much clarity, able to estimate perhaps only four metres before that strange feeling came to fruition. 

I tightened my hand around his and started to walk again. The young boy followed without question, which should have been concerning, but at this moment I was all too grateful for his cooperation. 

“Where are your parents?” I asked tensely, looking around for anyone else but finding the streets barren. 

“My mum’s at home," the boy answered, holding me equally tight as we tried to put distance between us and our pursuer. 

“Why are you out here then?” I breathed before turning right as per the urge to. 

There was a pause before he turned to me. The sun must have caught his eyes strangely in that moment, because his once brown eyes seemed to be a caramel hue, but I had little time to think on that as he tilted his head and uttered, “I could hear you calling. Weren’t you calling?”

I found myself unable to make an answer to that, because though the rational part of me was saying ‘no, I was just cussing a lot’, another part of me insisted that it was true.

“Thank you,” was all I said instead, and he smiled a shy little thing before ducking his head.

Then he stopped, and all but dragged me down a lane, his unexpected strength shocking me. He looked like he was made of twigs with thin wrists and pale skin, but he pulled me with the force that I had trouble resisting. 

“This way!" he urged, “Just...This way!”

We were already walking fast, but just as we came to an intersection, the little boy broke us into a full-blown sprint across it. Only when we were well on the other side did he slow down and tug me into the obscurity of a parked car.

Just as we ducked down, we heard the rev of motorcycle engines and rough, shouted voices. I hissed out a breath and pulled the little boy into my side, hunching over him as the yells and hollers were coupled with the aggressive rumble of engines.

There was a beat of silence, then another, and I felt myself slowly unwind enough to peek through the windows of the car to see an empty street. At the sight, I let out the longest sigh I could, the whole capacity of my lungs evacuating in a single moment until I slumped back against the car door.

“Gone?" the little boy asked, still wedged under my arm. 

“Gone,” I nodded. “How did you know to run here?”

“I, uh, I’m always hearing about the bikie gangs from the high schools that race around this road," he murmured, and I watched as the severe furrow in his brow smoothed out. “I’m glad it worked.”

“I am too,” I wheezed, “You’re a smart little bean, huh?”

“M- _ Me!?" the _ boy yelped, and I blinked as the air around him seemed to shift to a completely different intensity. A softer atmosphere following him as he stumbled to his feet. “Smart? Uh, no, I’m -  _ oof!” _

I gasped and sat up as the boy tripped and face planted into the ground, a faint grumble coming from the pavement. I winced and moved to his side as he pushed himself up and sat as he tried to regain his bearings, his shoelaces loose and his knees scuffed.

“You okay?” I asked quickly, crouching at his side, hands hovering unsurely. “Can I check it?”

“U-uh, I’m fine!" he assured, shying away as she eyed the scrape with concern. “I’m fine, really!”

“...If you’re sure,” I murmured before backing off, recognising his body language to be urgent. 

“Yeah," he nodded, curling his knees to his chest and watching me from the distance, his face hidden behind his knees. 

There was a beat of silence and I watched as the boy seemed to go through a rainbow of internal conflict. His expression morphed through various stages of mortification, obviously reflecting on the recent happening. 

“Thank you,” I uttered, and he glanced up at me. “I don’t know if I would have been able to shake him off as easily if it weren’t for you. So...Thank you for helping me.”

The little boy peered at me with widening eyes, a flush blooming in his cheeks as he floundered mutely. 

“I, uh, well, you-”

“It’s okay,” I soothed, seeing him begin to panic, “I understand,” I didn’t, really. 

It seemed to calm him down though, not needing to explain himself, and he let out a breath. He gave me a weak smile from behind his knees, and I couldn’t help but smile back, the boy startlingly cute.

“You said your mum was at home, yeah?” I hummed, looking to the crevice of sky visible from the two buildings we were squeezed between. “She’ll get worried soon. You should get home.”

It was then that the boy looked around and the colour drained from his face, head snapping left and right as he took in his surroundings.

“I...don’t know how," he whimpered, and I blinked as he got to his feet and stumbled to the mouth of the alley, peering down each side of the road. I joined him at his side and asked how he knew this place in the first place and he said, “Kaa-san shops for things here. I don’t know the way on my own.”

“Oh,” I uttered before looking around for any landmarks. The sun was still only at midday’s position, so we had a while before it became dark. “Then, how about I help you get home? Since you helped me.”

The youth looked up at me for a moment, his neck craning in a way that couldn’t have been comfortable. He was actually quite short, and I wondered how old he actually was. 

“O...kay," he murmured, finally, nodding his head.

Then he reached up and grabbed my hand. His grip, despite being small, was strong, and almost overwhelmingly warm. 

I should have honestly been worried about how easily this boy just walked up to random people, seeming to possess no concerns for ‘stranger danger’. But the memory of his reaction to the man made me rethink, the contrasts in his behaviour startling.

“Um, I’m Sawada Tsunayoshi," he introduced suddenly, as he tugged me to start walking, deciding to try and walk the way we came, though the memory of the path was blurry with adrenaline and last-minute choices. 

“Huh? Oh, sorry,” I blinked, shaking out of my thoughts. “I’m Mary Smith. Nice to meet you, Sawada-san.”

“You can call me Tsuna, Mary-san,” Tsuna urged, and I nodded with a soft smile.

“Okay, Tsuna-san. Let’s see if we can get you home, yes?”

Tsuna squeezed my hand and stayed close to my side as we debated the forks in the road. He told me about the games he had at home, and his mother, who was apparently an amazing cook. I noticed him being quite tightlipped about certain aspects and outright avoiding them, so I decided to not pry and smiled as I asked what shows he was into.

“Mecha anime!" he announced, shedding his shy skin and grinning wide, with a sparkle in his eye. “I wanna be a robot when I grow up!”

I bit my lip to hide my laughter but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corners of my lips, his enthusiasm permeating. 

“Oh? What kind of robot?” I giggled, helping him jump over a puddle. 

“A," he paused and pursed his lips in thought. “A rescue bot! I wanna help people get out of buildings and stuff!”

My smile became soft despite myself, and he made a noise of glee behind his grin as we chose to go left at an intersection. 

“What about you, Mary-san?" he asked, “What shows do you like?”

“Me?” I hummed, thinking about it. “I like...Things like BBC’s Merlin.”

“Hm? B..BBC?" the boy repeated, the ‘C’ sounding hissed and accented. 

“British Broadcasting Corporation,” I supplied softly, “We get a lot of their shows in Australia.”

“You’re from Australia?!" he gasped, and I nodded with a laugh. “Why’re you here then?”

I blinked and wordlessly opened and closed my mouth, before uttering a sensible, “Just looking around.” 

“But isn’t Australia really far away?”

“...Yes.”

Tsuna looked at me quietly, something passing behind his eyes. He thinned his lips and squeezed my hand again, walking a step closer. 

We made another left before moving through a crossroad. A small noise rose from me when I saw the familiar sign of a takoyaki stand. 

“We’re nearly at the shops,” I cheered, and smiled down at Tsuna.

He didn’t seem to reflect the smile, despite how the corner of his lip quivered weakly. He was moving sluggishly, however, and leant against me more and more the further we walked like he was getting tired. 

“Do you know how to get home from here?” I asked, and Tsuna nodded slowly. I thinned my lips when I saw the hesitation, and crouched down to his height. “Do you want me to walk with you just in case?”

The boy perked up at the offer, big brown eyes shining through the drowsiness. He smiled and reclaimed his hold on my hand when I stood, tugging me along with the occasional directing point.

“I hope Mama isn’t too grumpy with me," he murmured after a while, pausing to yawn squeakily. “I ran out without asking.”

“I’m sure she’s just worried,” I assured gently, “Worse comes to worst, I can take the blame. Since you helped me.” I continued to eye the boy as he grumbled and rubbed his eye, head rocking as his steps became sloppy. “Tsuna-san, you seem tired… Do you want a piggyback ride?”

Tsuna blinked up at me, dumbfounded before he flushed in sheepish excitement and nodded, slowly releasing me from his grasp. I turned and lowered myself, heels digging in a bit before he clambered up onto my back and wrapped his arm around my neck.

“Hold on and up we go,” I huffed, standing straight and linking my hands behind to seat him properly. “All good?”

“Mhm," the boy affirmed.

I nodded and continued to walk in the direction he had described to me, taking two lefts and a right to find myself deep within a residential area of uniform houses. I blinked when I felt Tsuna relax and begin to breathe against my nape. A quick look over my shoulder made me pause before a huff of laughter came, the boy fast asleep with his cheek on my shoulder.

“Aw, what a cutie,” I cooed.

Tsuna barely stirred as I continued on our way, reading the little plaques on each house, looking for the name ‘Sawada’. 

My heels dug in with the extra weight but I grit my teeth and bared it, thankful that I had at least left the heaviest of my junk in my hotel room. If I had brought my laptop, I didn’t think I would have been able to carry Tsuna.

I hummed and was about to turn what I believed to be the final corner from Tsuna’s directions when a woman came sprinting. A yelp ripped from deep in my throat and I jumped out of the way, letting the frazzled woman stop and turn to me with wide eyes.

“I’m so sorry, I just-" she paused and gasped before rushing forwards with the exclamation of ‘Tsu-kun!’

I smiled and handed the boy over to his mother, making sure she had a good grip on the owlishly blinking boy before releasing my own.

“Tsu-kun where did you go!? I looked away for  _ five minutes! _ ” His mother wheezed, looking him over before squishing him to her chest, the boy giving a small ‘oof!’ at the impact. 

“I’m sorry,” I began, seeing Tsuna was slow to catch up. The woman looked to then, finally taking complete stock of me now that she had secured her son. “It’s my fault, really. Your son, Tsuna-san, came found me. He helped me out of a...not great situation, and while doing so we got a bit lost.”

She blinked and glanced between me and Tsuna before cuddling her son one more time and giving a soft scold before she got back to her feet and dipped her head.

“Thank you so much for bringing him home. I’m sorry for any trouble he caused.”

I balked a bit at the action and gave a shaky smile, raising my hands to try and push the idea away from me.

“No, no! It’s fine, he didn’t cause trouble! Good thing I ran into you, I was just trying to find Tsuna-san’s house to drop him off. It’d have been bad if we’d missed one another,” I breathed, watching the mother fuss over her son, who still looked a bit confused as to where he was.

“Would you like to come in?" she asked, and I blinked. “It looks like it’s about to rain, and I really do want to thank you. I had thought I lost him, I couldn’t find him  _ anywhere _ .”

I bit my tongue and looked to the darkening sky, but decided against it and looked back at the mother. 

“I couldn’t, I’ve already caused enough grief today,” I denied with an awkward laugh, before looking down to Tsuna who was all but dead on his feet. “Besides, Tsuna-san looks like he could use a break. Isn’t that right, smart lil’ bean?”

“Mhm," he agreed wordlessly, rubbing his face to smother another yawn. 

“Another day then?" the woman offered, and I buckled slightly.

“Yeah, another day. Be safe on your way home.”

“Yes, thank you," she smiled, before looking to Tsuna and nudging him a bit. “Say thank you, Tsu-kun.”

“Thank you, Mary-san," he hummed, and I couldn’t help but smile at his dozy behaviour.

“Thank  _ you _ , Tsuna-san,” I reciprocated, before nodding to the mother. “It was nice to meet you Sawada-san.”

“You too, Mary-san. Thank you, again.”

I smiled and turned to go back the way I came, heels clacking against the pavement as I navigated the paths. 

**: : :**

The new hotel room wasn’t as good as the one before it, but it still had the essentials and did the job. 

My phone dinged as it came to full charge and I looked up from the small plastic bucket I had filled with water, my beaten up feet soaking in it. I stared at the device for a moment, before looking back down at the still water, the redness of my skin obvious from blisters formed and burst.

“Ow,” I uttered pointlessly, before laying back across the hard bed and stared up at the ceiling. “My poor feet.”

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

**Help Line**

**: : :**

**Chapter 3**

* * *

The _‘clop’, ‘clop’, ‘clop’_ of my heels were accented by spikes of dull pain with every step, a cold wind spinning up leaves and gusting at my slacks. It was made only slightly better by the thick socks, but the grating of material on the blisters still made them pulse, even if they did warm me up.

The craving for _kyay oh_ had been following me since I woke up that day and the cold had only promoted it. I sighed and shivered, glancing around at the sparse people bundled up in their thick coats, wishing that the season from where I am and once had remained the same.

My options were running low and so were my funds. I had tried all the numbers I remembered on the payphones, even the old, dusty ones of childhood friends in a desperate bid, but every dial was a dead end.

I walked around the corner and sighed, my last option in sight; Namimori police station. 

It wasn’t a great idea, despite how it sounded like common sense. I was going to a police station and claiming to have magically teleported into Japan with only my bust up learner’s license and student ID to back my claim of identity. Now it doesn’t sound so much like ‘common sense’, huh? As a matter of fact, I doubt they’ll think I have any ‘sense’ at all. But it was honestly my last resort.

I bit my lip in anxiety but straightened my shoulders, set my face in determination and stepped into the station, the doors sliding open for me. Last effort or not, I was going to make it a _best_ effort.

The click of my heels made the officer at the desk look up. An array of emotions flitted over the man’s face in the instant he laid eyes on me; confusion, panic, realisation and then a cautious smile.

“Hello ma’am, can I help you?” he asked, a soft shudder in his voice.

I thinned my lips for a moment and deliberated my words carefully, eyes narrowing a bit as I thought about how to phrase the topic.

“I seem to have come across an...issue,” I said slowly, barely catching the man press the number one on a caller. “I’ve found myself lost here with minimal identification.”

Oh, gosh, I was being wordy. I get wordy when I’m nervous.

It was like a Pomeranian bristling its fur to look bigger, but I was just using big words to make myself look smart and like I had things under control. All lies, obviously. When have I ever had anything under control? It’d be news to me, I assure you.

“Of course,” the officer smiled, looking a bit pale in the face. “I’ll have someone qualified out to help you in a moment.”

I blinked and nodded my head before turning to sit at one of the chairs which lined the wall. I knew my posture was stiff with tension, hands folded sharply in my lap as I stared at the far wall with careful apathy.

Oh God, I was nervous. Police stations made me nervous.

Come on, Mary, think of something else. How’s the sporty bean doing? Should I text him? Oh, no, he’s only got landline. Who has landline nowadays? Maybe, when I’m settled back at home (hopefully, please, God) I can get him a cheap mobile to keep on him, just in case. Download a communication app like Viber to talk across countries.

“Ma’am?” an aged voice hummed, and I turned to the new officer who stood before me.

This one was greying at the temples and had crow’s feet in the corners of his eyes, weathered but sharp as he sized me up with his approach.

“You seem to be having some problems with your papers, correct?”

“Yes,” I nodded, getting to my feet. “I can’t seem to be able to get my hands on them since coming here. I can’t get in contact with anyone either. This must be odd, huh?”

He watched me for a moment longer before offering a soft smile, an almost knowing tilt to it. Some part of me thought he made the wrong conclusion.

“Oh, not at all ma’am. Namimori is a town which is quite...well versed in handling people with your situation.” I swore he winked at me then. Not flirtatiously, but co-conspiratorially. “I can get you in contact with someone who can help you get set up without fuss or fanfare. May I know your name?”

I took a moment to respond, startled, but quickly collected myself.

“Mary Smith, sir. Thank you for your help.”

“Absolutely no problem, Mary-san,” he nodded before disappearing back into his office.

I blinked and looked to the officer who sat at the desk, noticing how he ducked his head and avoided my eyes.

“Here we go,” the old officer announced, handing me a discreet little business card, completely white save for a black square on one side; a number and an address on the other. “The woman’s name is Fujimoto-san. She’ll take care of you. Just tell her what you told me.”

“Okay. Again, thank you for your help.”

He nodded me and I walked from the station, intent on finding a map to get my bearings.

Once I understood where I was going, I began on the trail back to the main shopping plaza. I shifted my bag’s strap from where it sat on my shoulder, feeling it dig in uncomfortably.

A sigh fell from my lips as I walked, the sky was overcast with ominous clouds, making it seem later than I was sure it was. My hands were cold even when I tucked them under my armpits, silken shirt not doing much to keep the warm in.

I was only, perhaps, halfway to my destination when a rumble shook the sky and a heavy sheet of rain came down as if shaken free from the clouds themselves. A gasp slipped from me and I ducked under the roof of the closest shop front. 

I stared out at the heavy rain and bit back another sign, wondering if that Yamamoto boy would ever have the chance to give me back my umbrella, or if I had signed away that piece equipment. Shaking my head, I lowered myself until I crouched down in a ball, leaning back on my heels until I found a careful spot which didn’t hurt as much.

I squatted there for maybe ten minutes in silence, wondering when the rain would let up and let me head to where I needed to go before the door to the shop opened and a man dressed in a chef’s uniform stepped out.

“It’s really coming down out there, huh?” the man commented, crossing his arms. 

“Yeah,” I agreed, wrapping my arms around my knees and gazing out. 

“I don‘t mean to pry, but you seem stressed,“ he said after a moment. “Were you on your way somewhere?” 

“Just some address given to me,” I sighed, rubbing my nape for a moment before returning my arm back to wrap. “These past few days just...haven’t been the easiest on me, I guess.”

The chef hummed as if sympathising, a breath of mist coming from his mouth, showing how the temperature dropped further as time passed.

“Do you think the rain will let up soon?” I asked, glancing to the man out of the corner of my eye. 

“Not according to the weather report,” he answered, “It’ll be like this until the end of next week at least.”

“Damn it,” I deflated, lowering my head onto my knees. “It’ll be good for the plants at least, right?”

“Are going to ask your parents coming to pick you up, then?” the chef inquired, and a rumble of thunder boomed in the far distance. 

I paused and curled tighter for a moment, trying to ignore how my internal, emotional box stirred at the mention.

“No…No, I can’t,” I uttered slowly, being very watchful of my tone. There was a pause before a laugh lurched out, smothering what would have been a gross sob. “Some things happened recently and I...I just found myself here. I have no idea what I’m doing or where I’m going half the time. These past days have just been utter...Utter chaos.”

I swayed on my heels for a moment and watched a bird soar through the rain, desperate to escape the downfall.

“I spent the night in some shoddy hotel, and have been wearing these clothes for three days straight. I’ve only got the money in my wallet, I can’t get in contact with any family or friends.” Another laugh came and I put my cheek in my hand. “God, I don’t even have my papers, haha...What a mess I am.”

Another strike of thunder growled in the sky, and I listened to it with fading hope. The smile I had donned in my helpless laughter faded from my lips and I sighed - before pausing as a sniffle reached my ears and I turned to see the chef tearing up beside me.

I spluttered wordlessly as he rubbed his eyes with his sleeve, and a part of me thought the action similar to that boy in the park. Then he cleared his throat and stared off into the middle distance, a look of nostalgic determination clear in his expression.

“I too came here with only the clothes on my back and a dream of a fresh start,” he began, and I blinked as he clenched his fist. “Running from my past, leaving everything behind. It can be hard to plant roots when you’re all on your own.”

“Uh, no wait that's not-” 

“Do you want to work for me?” he offered, turning to look down at my squatting form with a bright smile. “Until you get back on your feet, I'll pay you.”

I paused and pursed my lips, squinting slightly before I carefully uttered, “...With money?” 

“That's usually how we pay people.” 

“Oh, thank God,” I wheezed and the old chef laughed good-naturedly, patting my shoulder.

“Why not come into the shop and out of the rain? We’ll get you a uniform and something warm to eat.”

I looked after the chef as he pushed open the door and walked in, getting to my feet a moment after. I grabbed my messenger bag and put it back on my shoulder before entering the shop, instantly smelling soy sauce and some kind of broth. 

“Oh! Before we start, it might be a good idea to tell me your name, huh?” the chef laughed, and I resisted the urge to smack myself in the head for forgetting something so simple.

“Sorry!” I winced and his smile stretched further. “My head’s a bit all over the place, lately. I’m Mary Smith.”

“European?” 

“Eurasian,” I corrected, scratching the corner of my jaw awkwardly. “So...may I know the name of my employer?”

“Yamamoto Tsuyoshi,” the chef nodded, before gesturing around, “and this here is my sushi bar. And before you panic, young lady, I know you probably don’t have experience with sushi. All I’ll need you to do is wait tables, cashier and some kitchen hand tasks.”

I closed my mouth, relief touching my mind as the tension was addressed. The action seemed to make the man amused, and he moved us along to sit down at the bar of his store, rather than one of the booths.

“So, Mary-san, what kinds of skills do you have?” Yamamoto asked, bringing out a bowl from what must have been the kitchen. “Tell me everything you can do, the more I know the better. Even if it seems irrelevant.”

I winced as the man placed down the bowl in front of me, some kind of noodle soup. It made me feel guilty for not paying for it.

“I took food technology for four years in high school, so I know the basics of preparing meals and how to use appliances,” I began, taking a spoon and sipping at the soup, letting it warm me from the inside. “I can talk to people pretty easy, so I can do customer service.”

Yamamoto nodded as I continued to tell him what little I could do, barely a year of actual work experience and the bare beginnings of a degree under my belt. Despite this, he seemed like he was honestly trying to work with what little I had to give, and smiled whenever something else came to mind and I’d blurt it out hopefully. 

“Yeah, that’s about it,” I sighed finally, soup bowl aside and empty, a can of cola in my hands. “Sorry I can’t offer more.”

“You have enough,” he assured. “Maybe not enough for one of those big, fancy corporation jobs. But enough for a little waiting job down here.”

“That’s...good to know,” I breathed a sigh a relief, “Thank you, Yamamoto-san.” 

“No problem,” my new boss smiled. “It’s good to finally be able to help someone.”

I blinked and was about to ask what he meant when the sounds of feet came from overhead before they descended down some stairs. The door which was concealed by some curtains was pushed open and a young boy came stumbling out, strikingly familiar.

“Tou-san! I finished my homework so can I-”

I blinked down at Yamamoto Takeshi as he froze mid-step.

This was his home? Oh God, this was his _father_. The one who yelled and forgot and made him hide under the blankets. 

His face drained of colour.

It took me a moment, but then my eyes widened when I realised what was going through this boy’s mind; he was thinking I had tattled on him.

“Oh, Takeshi-kun!” Yamamoto - the elder one - began, smiling widely. “This is Mary Smith, she’ll be helping us around the store.”

The young boy stared at me wordlessly, still tense and still as he tried to assess his father’s mood. 

I bit my lip and waved at him, trying to express that _I didn’t know._

Like a flip was switched the young Yamamoto grinned and bounced on his feet, something in my stomach unsettling at the change. 

“Can I show Mary-san my room!? Please?! I wanna show her my project!” he insisted and his father raised an eyebrow. “Please, tou-san!?”

He was being careful, but I could hear the faintest of hysterical edges in his voice. His father must have missed it, however, and shrugged before waving his hand absently.

“Go ahead, I guess. Only if Mary-san wants to though, don’t force her.”

“I’d love to,” I said quickly, getting to my feet as the youth shuffled restlessly as if to try and hurry me. “Lead the way, Yamamoto-san...Junior?”

Wait, were the last names different? _Were_ they the last names? 

“Just call me Boss, to avoid confusion from here on out,” Yamamoto - Boss - instructed, and I nodded before I was grabbed and hauled from the room.

Yamamoto dragged me up the stairs I had heard him come down before. He dug his nails in when he deemed me too slow, a hectic note in his breath that riddled me with guilt for inadvertently causing.

I was pushed into his room with surprising strength before Yamamoto slammed his door behind him and spun on my, face pale and eyes wide. I immediately crouched so he wouldn’t need to tilt his head, and began to urge him to breath steady, keeping my voice low so it wouldn’t travel to the Boss downstairs.

“Did you tell him? You said you wouldn’t, you lied and-” he gasped.

“I didn’t tell him anything, I promise,” I interrupted, wanting to get that message across early. “I didn’t even know he was your father. I didn’t know this was your house.”

Yamamoto didn’t look completely convinced and huddled in on himself a bit, obviously trying to breathe properly despite how fear compressed his throat. 

“Yamamoto-san,” I began, tone firm. “I did not and will not tell anyone what you tell me, so long as you do not give me _clear_ permission to do so.”

Yamamoto held my gaze for what could have been two solid minutes, trying to pry me apart for any falsities or deception. Eventually, he let out a long sigh and unravelled, still wary, as if I’d jump up and scream ‘ _sike! I told on you!_ ’

“Why are you here, then?” he asked, taking a step forward until he stood an arm’s length from me. 

“Well, originally I was just ducking out of the rain, but then your dad and I got talking and...I think he just gave me a job?” I answered slowly, not quite sure myself. “Oh God, your dad just gave me a _job_.”

“Haha, he does that sometimes,” Yamamoto admitted, taking the final step that made him close to me like he was on the bench again. “I think most of the people working here are wandering. We’re always getting new staff.”

I paused at that before smiling as I put my cheek in my palm, elbow on my knee. 

“Your father is a nice man,” I admitted.

“I told you so,” he huffed, puffing his chest. Then he hesitated for a moment before he curved his posture inward and said, “I’m sorry that I dragged you, Mary-san. I scratched you a bit, didn’t I?”

“Huh? Oh,” my eyes dropped to the arm he had grabbed downstairs and saw the angry red crescents where the boy’s nails had dug in. “Yeah, but only a little. It’ll be gone before the end of the day,” I assured, tugging my sleeve until the cuff covered the inflictions. 

“I’m still sorry, though,” he murmured, “I panicked.”

“I know, it’s okay,” I hummed, before smiling and looking about his room. “You said you had a project to show me, right? Lemme see!”

The little boy hesitated for a moment before bouncing off and guided me over to a beat up, paper mache solar system model which he had been going at with textas in order to colour in. He displayed and toured me around each lopsided sphere, naming them and their qualities to which I responded with the necessary amount of enthusiasm and interest. 

“Ah...I better give you back to tou-san, huh?” the youth uttered, and I blinked at the sudden derail. 

“Oh yeah, he’s probably going to need me soon,” I agreed, looking to my watch. Then I paused and crouched down in front of the boy where he sat on his desk chair, and I smiled up at him. “Thank you for showing me your project. I’m sure you’ll get good marks with this; you’ve put in so much effort.”

“You’re welcome,” he grinned, kicking his feet lightly and flexing his toes within his socks. “Thanks for...not telling tou-san.”

“Oh, that’s not something you need to thank me for, lil bean,” I laughed, putting my cheek on my fist. “Are you going back down with me?”

“Yeah,” Yamamoto nodded and shimmied off the chair to join me as we walked back down to the restaurant where his father looked up at our arrival. 

“How’s his model going?”

“He’s putting in a lot of effort,” I smiled, looking down at the boy who preened at the praise. “I’m sure it’ll pay off.”

“That’s my boy,” he grinned and proceeded to vigorously ruffle the child’s hair, making Yamamoto whine in indignation and playfully fight against the grip. 

I blinked and felt a smile tug at the corners of my lips as the youth complained light-heartedly, happy to see him so bouncy and at ease with his father despite everything.

“So, Mary,” Boss began, looking up and making me stand to attention. “When are you able to start working?”

“Oh, um,” I paused and pulled out the address card. I didn’t see how the old Yamamoto snatched a recognising glance at the discrete card. “I think I should get my papers in order first. I’ll come back soon though! Are you okay with me coming here tomorrow?”

“Of course, I totally understand,” the man assured with a soft smile, making me relax a little. “Are you going now? Do you have an umbrella?” 

“I...Well...”

“I have a spare one!” Yamamoto jumped up and announced, and we exchanged an unseen look before he bolted off and came scampering back with my umbrella. “Here you go, Mary-san!”

“...Thank you, Yamamoto-san,” I said, taking the item that had been offered to me. 

“You’re welcome!”

“Where’d that umbrella come from, Takeshi-kun?” Boss asked, coming up behind his son. “Haven’t seen it around the house before.”

“I, uh,” the boy blinked, before pulling his smile further and said, “It was in the lost property box for a while, so I didn’t think anyone’s coming back for it.”

“It’s fine if I borrow it, right?” I asked slowly - though it was _mine_. “I can bring it back afterwards, I just need to dodge the rain.”

“How long has it been in the property box?” he asked.

“A couple months,” Yamamoto shrugged, “I’ve been using it for a while.”

“Okay, well,” Boss hummed before reaching over to the counter and plucked up a card to give to me. “This is TakeSushi’s number, give us a call ahead of time before you come in and we’ll have a uniform ready for you.”

“... _Okay_ ,” I wheezed, taking the card with two hands. The little Yamamoto giggled at my reaction. “See you soon then.”

“See you soon, Mary-san.”

I kind of stumbled towards the door after that, perhaps a bit light headed from the whole situation - maybe I was catching a cold? Nonetheless, I managed to reach the front and opened my little pop-up umbrella against the downpour outside.

“Bye-bye, Mary-san,” Yamamoto whispered, idling beside me. 

“Bye-bye, sporty bean,” I murmured with a smile, “Remember, you can still call me if you need someone to talk to.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, bouncing a bit. 

I looked to the overcast sky and took a deep breath, before stepping out and began on my way, the little, inconspicuous business card leading me on.


	4. Chapter 4

**Help Line**   
**: : :**   
**Chapter 4**

* * *

  
“Boss wasn’t kidding when he said it’d rain all week,” I signed and peered out from under my umbrella, an absolute downpour falling from the sky. "Great, wet socks on blisters."

The little, inconspicuous business card the policeman had given me had led me back into the shopping district. I had roamed these streets for three days before getting it and had found no such place with a black square logo. So, when I came to a stop in front of a storefront which boasted soba, I squinted in confusion. 

I quickly shook my head at myself though, and thought perhaps there was a backroom or second story. Even a side business perhaps.

I made a bit of a face but ducked under the tassels of the store's door and out of the rain, the smell of sesame oil and warm broth pouring out of a kitchen viewing window. There weren't many people in the restaurant, not really surprising considering the weather, with only a man and a small boy bowed over steaming bowls of hot noodle soup.

Ah, I really wanted _kyay oh…_

I must have made a noise or startled the boy for he looked up from his food and stared at me, eyes somehow both big and sharp with noodles dangling from his mouth. 

"Hello! Welcome, what can I get you?" 

I snapped to attention and looked to the voice, a little old lady smiled at me from across the counter dressed in a white apron. She hummed as I blinked dumbly before shaking myself into focus and approached with the soft clop of my heels against the floorboards. 

"Hello ma'am," I greeted slowly, reaching into my blazer to pull forth the white card. "I was directed here, apparently you can assist me with my special situation."

All it took was the woman to glance at the card and the very air of her shifted, her smile stretching in a knowing and conspiratorial manner. She clasped her hands behind her back and walked around the counter before beckoning me with a nod of her head towards a plain doorway.

"Come, I'll get you set up," she said and I silently followed the command, mind too muddled to refuse.

"Obaa-san," the man from the counter called lowly, his face concealed behind a newspaper.

"In you go, I'll be with you in a moment."

I nodded and walked further down a narrow hall into another room containing a desk with two chairs and what looked like a make-shift photo booth in the corner. A long breath left me as I sat down, crossing my legs out of nervousness and clasping my hands on my lap to keep them from fiddling. My messenger bag leant against the legs of the chair, it's strap looped around my foot - a habit I had formed early on in high school.

The door to the room opened and the woman tottered in wordlessly. She pulled the chair opposite me and sat down with a huff like her bones themselves wheezed at the loosening pressure. 

"So, young lady, you're having paper troubles?" she asked, though it sounded more like a statement. She must have taken my momentary silence as surprise, for as she picked up a pair of large circle-lens glasses and put them on, she said, "You wouldn't have been sent here otherwise."

"Ah," I uttered flatly, "Yes, that's my current situation."

"No problem, we can deal with it easily. We're used to helping people around here," she assured, "Do you have any sort of identification already?"

"Yes," I answered quickly, digging through my pockets before I pulled out both my student ID and learner's driver's license. "This is all I have currently."

"Hm," the woman pursed her lips and looked them over, flipping the pieces to check the fine printing at the back. "These are good."

"...Thank you," I uttered.

She nodded and placed them back down to slide them back across the table to me. Her hand fell away and opened a drawer to pull out a reasonable stack of forms held together with a staple, presenting them to me. 

"Fill these out for me please, it shouldn't take you more than ten minutes."

"Okay," I conceded and felt for the pen in my breast pocket, adjusting my glasses with my other hand. "Thank you."

"I'll be back soon," she said and left me in the room again. 

I thinned my lips but began reading, pushing down the stress of seeing kanji out of the corner of my eyes as I flipped over the header page. It seemed like pretty standard stuff; full name, sex, birthdate, nationality, criminal history, illnesses/disability, place of residence, next of kin. I filled it out without much incident, hesitating at places like residence and occupation. The later had me concerned for a moment, but the memory of Boss Yamamoto waving from the restaurant door while the little Yamamoto bounced behind him brought a hesitant smile and I scribbled down 'restaurant server'.

My name and signature were required on a few other pages along with phone number and birthdate, but eventually, I was finished. All that was left was a profile shot. 

I had enough time to review what I had put down to make sure I understood everything before the old woman returned, a paler tint to her complexion that I didn't have time to ponder on as she took the forms back and ushered me to stand in the makeshift photo booth and look straight ahead.

On autopilot, I cracked a thin smile towards the camera and the woman took a shot with a loud snapping of the shutter. She appraised it for a moment, adjusting her large glasses and squinting, before giving a terse nod.

“Everything should be ready by tomorrow morning. Come back at 11am, no earlier.”

I nodded mutely and grabbed my bag, feeling as if she was ushering me out even without her so much as glancing at me while sorting away my documents. I stepped out to the shop front again and rubbed my nape with a sigh, glancing to my watch for a moment; 3:53pm. 

I’d need to find another place to stay the night, and start thinking about if I can afford dinner. I should sit down tonight and start rationing out my finances, I’m not sure how long they’ll last at this rate.

A slight sigh slipped out of me but I shook my head and stood straight, “No time for that. First order of business: a base for the night.”

My heels clicked and dug into my bandages as I reached the door, rain still pouring down outside. I pursed my lips at it, before reaching into my bag- I turned around sharply and stared down at the little boy who stood behind me, head tilted back to let big, black eyes examine me from his height.

I blinked, slow to digest the fact that he was that close when I knew he was just at the counter. 

“Hello,” I uttered “How are you?”

Ah, yes, the reflex response. 

The little boy - gosh, was there a high concentration of children in this town or am I just running into all of them? - stared unblinkingly, and a humorous part of me likened it to downloading information, before he made a noise in the back of his throat. 

“Who are you?” he demanded, pointing a fist at me, which still tightly grasped his chopsticks. 

“Mary Smith.”

His eyes narrowed immediately like he didn't believe a word I said, but he didn't call me out on any suspicions. 

"...Who are you?" I asked after an elongated moment of silent staring.

The boy tilted his chin up and puffed his chest slightly, like he had been waiting for the question.

"I am Hibari Kyoya. This is my town." He said this like it was a universal truth.

I was...not sure how to respond to that.

"Very well," I nodded, adjusting my glasses when they slipped from looking down. "...It's a nice town. You're doing a good job."

Is this what he wanted to hear? Was I free to go now?

It wasn't a lie though. Namimori was proving to be a nice if not a too welcoming town. At the very least, I could say it would be among my top choices of towns to be irreparably and irretrievably lost in.

Hibari's eye widened a fraction before they creased into slight slits, mouth pursed into a small, smug quirk.

"Namimori is the greatest town."

"...I can't disagree," I responded carefully, sparing the man with the newspaper a glance. 

He was very invested in the same page from fifteen minutes ago. But perhaps he got distracted or was a slow reader. Either way, he didn't seem interested in saving me from his child.

"Well, it was nice meeting you, Hibari-san," I smiled, inclining my head politely. "Perhaps I'll see you around your town."

"Very likely," he huffed and I pulled my smile to stay on my face as I ducked out the door and let my figure be swallowed by the rain.

"The kids here are weird," I whined softly to myself, clutching my umbrella close to my body.

Getting that out of my system, I stood straighter and began the journey of finding another cheap hotel for the night. Eventually, with soggy socks and a runny nose, I found a place and booked the smallest room for five nights - there was a discount and I needed every blessing I could get. 

My shoes made a 'click! Click!' as I walked through the halls towards my room, key jangling in my one hand and phone in the other as I made my hourly, desperate search for any sort of activity or reboot. I refreshed login pages and checked contacts; still nothing.

A door opened just as I passed and I sent the man in his boxers and singlet a sideways glance. Our eyes met for a split second before his face washed of any living colour and he slammed the door shut, at least three locks sliding into place.

I blinked and walked a bit faster, slightly perturbed. 

The room I found myself in was, as expected, quite cramped. It must have been a storage room at one point, which had then been renovated for housing. Nonetheless, it fitted my needs, and even if I repeatedly knocked my elbow into the shower knobs and stubbed my toe on the bedframe, it was more than I'd expect to get on a deal of the equivalent of $18 per night for five nights.

I sighed as I set myself down on the edge of my bed, damp towel around my shoulders and my hair dripping off after washing out the rain.

My newly purchased socks were hanging off the foot of the bed, near a radiator which warmed the small room well. I tried not to look at the ankles, which were beginning to discolour, and instead reached into my bag to plaster on fresh bandaids over burst blisters.

I should buy some different shoes...but did I have the money to spend on that? I had even skipped dinner that night.

I sighed and slumped on my side, knees drawn up to my chest as I stared at the far wall unseeingly. There was a moment of stillness, before I huffed loudly and smothered my face into my arms, listening to the rain strike the window and pull at the trees.

My feet pulsed and stung from the abuse, my stomach began to complain and nudge for dinner. The box in my head strained from all that I had crammed into it over these days. 

...I'll buy some cheap, plastic flats from a sale section, or something. 

I turned my eyes to the ceiling and cracked a weak smile. There, one problem solved. I’ll think about the others after a quick nap…

**: : :**

I ended up sitting cross legged on the bed at roughly three in the morning, my bladder waking me up and the walk down to the communal toilets and bathroom finishing what it had started. My computer was split with a calculator, internet page and an excel sheet, the light hanging overhead a clinical white that made the paper I was writing on periodically glare. 

I pushed up my glasses and rubbed my eyes, a low groan bubbling in my throat as I reluctantly reduced the finances for food and moved the spare to the NTT phone bill. The more I looked at the numbers the more hopeless I felt, the finite nature of my resources laid out for all to see.

“Joyous,” I sighed, moving a sliver more money into the Emergency Money slot. 

There was a pulsing in the back of my head that I couldn’t quite call a headache. It lingered and the pulsing accelerated and slowed in a pattern I didn’t understand, but for the most part, I could shrug it off and focus on on the excel sheet, occasionally looking up command tutorials.

I winced and leant back, my back aching from being hunched over my laptop for an hour, the clock lurching into 4am and my legs tingling as I stretched them out. I flopped back onto the bed and curled around the pillow, loud thuds coming from the rooms around me until I plugged in my headphones and turned up the music on my phone.

“I’m too little for this stress,” I whined to make myself feel better, before setting an alarm for 9am and tried to get some more sleep.

I didn’t notice the light tapping at the small window above the bed, a disembodied mask pressed against the glass. A breath of condensation fogged the glass by it’s closed lips. 

I pushed my face into the pillow as the pulsing in my head beat like a racing heart. I just hoped it would go away with rest and a meal.


End file.
